Fishing for a Connection

by Douglas Young

conclusion

Unlike with the rest of his life, fishing for Addison was a domain where he could just act on impulse, feeling, or autopilot. He had never read a book or even an article on fishing. Nor did he keep any fish caught. He knew Hulda would not cook them, and he really did not care to clean or cook any either. The quarterly trip to Lake Basil Duke let him unwind with an old, trusted friend where there was no pressure to talk or impress. Instead, he could just relax standing by the shore and follow his instincts as to how to bait his hook, how deep to fish, where to cast his line, how long to keep it there before trying elsewhere, and how quickly to try to reel in a fish.

Though there were usually a few other fishermen along the banks, no one fished anywhere near anyone else. Folks walking by spoke and asked what they had caught, but there was an unspoken understanding it was not kosher to fish remotely too close to anyone.

It was an intriguing surprise when Addison noticed a pair of young girls slowly walking around the lake in their direction. It was rare to see any females fishing, and he tried to recall if he had ever seen one not in the company of a male. As the minutes passed, he realized the girls were walking straight toward them and getting ever closer. I don’t recognize them, he mused. Maybe they are going around us to another spot.

But when the girls got about fifteen feet from them, they stopped and put down their gear. As Addison looked at them, they smiled back, said hello, and waved. The older girl appeared to be about fifteen and the other twelve. After the bigger one baited her hook and cast her line, she got another worm and showed the younger one how to hook it.

But the twelve-year old squealed and giggled, jumping back at one point.

“Oh, don’t be a baby, Doshia,” the larger girl exclaimed. “You’re such a girly girl. Come on. You said you wanted to fish.”

“I don’t want to hurt it. Why can’t we just use those artificial thingies?”

“’Cause we don’t have any and bream don’t like them.”

Then the taller girl tried to show the other how to cast her line. But the younger one suddenly jumped, pointing to her friend’s float which had gone underwater.

“Ah! Arabella, you’ve got a fish!” she shouted with delight. The older girl quickly grabbed her rod and reel and started to reel in the line. The fish waged a mighty battle as Arabella excitedly exclaimed how heavy it felt and Doshia clasped her hands in front of her wide smile.

DeBoyd and Addison silently followed Arabella’s progress pulling the fish ashore. When she lifted it out of the water, they were impressed by what an especially large bream it was, and how colorful too since it was tinged with orange on its fins, belly, and tail.

The girls were thrilled, and Addison congratulated Arabella on such a swell catch. She thanked him and got Doshia to take a picture of her holding it. While Arabella unhooked the fish to throw it back in the water, Doshia implored her not to hurt it. Before casting her line again, Arabella texted the picture to family and friends.

After more squealing as Doshia finally baited her hook, the girls cast their lines but continued chatting. Addison wondered if fish could feel the vibrations of human voices and, if yes, whether the girls’ chatter would scare them away. But he found their eager exhortations to each other amusing and remembered events from middle and high school he had not recalled in years.

DeBoyd caught several decent-sized bream before reeling in a feisty bass. Arabella and Doshia cheered each catch, and Addison took a picture of DeBoyd holding the bass. Just as his friend was about to release it, the girls implored him to pose with the fish once more so they could photograph them as well.

Though glad his buddy and the older girl had caught fish, Addison wished he could haul in something too, no matter how small. Still, upon reflection, he realized it really did not matter. He felt so at peace just enjoying the pretty surroundings, pleasant people, and all the minutiae of fishing. So he continued to hook fresh worms, cast his line in different spots, and slowly reel it in when there were no bites. Arabella caught a few more bream, and each time she and Doshia would get excited and take pictures of the fish to text to relatives and friends, no matter how small the catch. Addison caught himself smiling at them but was careful not to stare.

Failing to get even a nibble anywhere near where he had been standing, he moved to the other side of DeBoyd. But despite a couple of brief bites, he had no more success there. So he walked back to his bait can, hooked a fresh worm, and raised the float considerably so he could fish in deeper waters. He then cast his line as far as he could, prompting the girls to applaud. He laughed in surprise and remarked that a man his age should be able to cast his line farther.

“Why can’t I catch anything?” Doshia complained with a pronounced pout before giggling.

“It’s like Granddaddy says, you have to be patient,” Arabella reminded her.

“I haven’t caught anything today, either,” Addison added. “And we’ve been here longer than y’all.”

For a good twenty minutes he kept exploring waters as far from shore as he could cast his line, but got nary a bite. Yet Addison remained completely in the moment, unconcerned, even oblivious to all else. Only here and now seemed to matter. Glancing at his watch, he was stunned how fast the time was going. It always did when fishing.

He turned to talk with DeBoyd before looking up at the bucolic blue sky above the big pair of willow trees. When his eyes lowered to the lake’s surface, he searched for his float but could not find it. Then he felt the line tighten and start to move in another direction. Addison was thrilled as he quickly began reeling in his line.

“I’ve got one,” he exclaimed. “I think it could be a big one too.”

The girls shouted encouragement, and DeBoyd agreed the fish was a first-class fighter.

Addison was making progress, but was a little nervous with three other sets of eyes following his line. How humiliating if he lost this one, he mused, especially in front of the girls.

“Take your time,” DeBoyd advised. “You’ve hooked him good. So don’t jerk him out suddenly.”

Sure enough, with patient persistence, Addison reeled his line ashore to discover he had a fair-sized carp. Elated that he had caught the biggest fish of the day thus far, he held him up and was embarrassed to realize he had a full grin. Arabella and Doshia cheered and wanted to know what kind of fish it was.

Since something was biting DeBoyd’s bait, a slightly sheepish Addison asked Arabella if she would please use his phone to take a picture of him holding the carp. She happily complied before she and Doshia took pictures of him with the fish on their own phones.

Over the next hour, they all, including Doshia, caught at least one bream. Addison and DeBoyd chuckled as she reeled the fish in while squealing with a mixture of excitement and fear. Too scared to unhook the feisty little fellow, Arabella did so for her while shaking her head.

As the morning started to heat up toward noon and neither Addison nor DeBoyd had caught anything in a good while, they decided it was time to pack up and head to the nearby Big Catch Cafe for lunch. But the sun did not intimidate the girls at all. Now that Doshia had finally caught a fish and could even bait her hook, she cast her line with new determination. Addison noticed the girls were not talking as much but appeared absolutely absorbed in trying to catch the next fish.

As the two men started to walk away with their gear and were about to tell the girls goodbye, Doshia shouted, “I’ve got one!”

Pleased with her farthest cast from shore, her line had been yanked deep under water with no warning. Seeing how sharply her rod was bending, Addison and DeBoyd stopped to watch.

“Oh, he’s too big!” Doshia cried. “What’ll I do?”

“Keep reeling. You’re doing well,” Arabella reassured her. “I think he’s a real big one all right. You want any help?”

“No, let me try.” Her eyes appeared as wide as her smile, and Addison really hoped the girl could pull in a big catch. In fact, with her rod still bending and the line going left and right, he eagerly hoped this would be the biggest catch of the day.

After many squeals and laughs from Doshia, and lots of reassurance and encouragement from Arabella, Addison, and DeBoyd, the twelve-year-old pulled over the bank a large catfish.

“Ah! It’s a monster!” Doshia exclaimed before dropping her pole and leaping back when the fish swung toward her.

“It’s a catfish,” Addison explained. “See, those are its whiskers. And that’s a right fine catch too — likely a two-pounder. Young lady, you just caught the biggest fish of the day. Hooray.”

“Yay!” Doshia shouted, jumped, clapped, and did a little dance. Assured the fish would not hurt her, she posed with it, albeit at arm’s length and shaking slightly each time the fish flapped.

Addison happily took pictures of the girls holding the fish before volunteering to unhook it to shield them from its sharp spines. Holding it up until they finished taking pictures, he finally tossed the catfish in the water where it made a splash and swam away with a vengeance.

Doshia waved goodbye to “my little sea monster.”

As Addison picked up his rod and reel and bait, he told them how impressed he was with their fishing prowess and informed Doshia he had been fishing for thirty-five years and had never caught a catfish as big as hers. He and DeBoyd wished them well and said goodbye.

The girls replied in kind and Doshia hugged Addison, thanking him for “protecting” her from “Mean Mr. Catfish.” Addison tried to recall the last time he had been hugged and guessed it was when he saw his parents a few months before.

He and DeBoyd enjoyed a delicious lunch recounting each fish caught that morning. There was talk of little else since neither had any real news he cared to share. On the drive home, instead of putting on music, Addison reviewed the morning. Despite not catching nearly as many fish as he would have liked, it was tough to remember when he had last had a more enjoyable time. For hours, it was as if life had been put on pause and there was only a placid present punctuated by brief bursts of excitement. Waiting a few months before meeting his friend to fish again would be a real downer of a frowner, and he resolved to try to get together sooner. What a swell smiler if Arabella and Doshia could join us again, too, he hoped.

Then he surprised himself by imagining how splendid it would be if Hulda could join them. Though they had fished together when he courted her before marriage, they had not done so in many years. But he suddenly recalled all the fun times they had shared casting their lines together at various lakes long ago, especially when she hooked a big one and he helped her reel it ashore. How surprised DeBoyd would be should Hulda join them next time. Though they had not seen each other in so long, they had always gotten along.

Or maybe Mr. and Mrs. Armistead could just go to the lake on their own. Addison smiled.